


the screaming, heavy, fuckery of the world

by parkoursexual



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, F/F, Oral Sex, Past Character Death, Post-Season/Series 03, Vaginal Fingering, written for tma femslash week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 00:34:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19860619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkoursexual/pseuds/parkoursexual
Summary: In the aftermath of the Unknowing and the Flesh's attack, Melanie and Basira try to find a way to cope with the lonely reality of being a survivor.Title is taken from the lyrics to Hozier's "No Plan"Written for TMA Femslash Week 2019





	the screaming, heavy, fuckery of the world

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first smut piece I've ever completely finished, here's hoping it turned out alright.

There are times when Basira regrets being down several bodies, but none more so than right now as she charges through the Archive's hallways, secondhand gun in hand, ready to take down the Flesh's minions. 

She rounds a corner into one of the main rooms, and stops dead, because it's already been done for her. 

Melanie stands there, knife in hand, covered in blood that isn’t hers, surrounded by misshapen piles of tissue and muscle. She sways slightly, like a tree in the wind, and Basira gingerly steps over a lump of flesh as she inches towards the other woman.

“Melanie?” 

Melanie’s head snaps up, like a hound catching a new scent, but the way she turns slowly reminds Basira more of a cat, stalking its prey. 

It reminds her of Daisy. 

Her eyes focus on Basira, and she blinks, slowly, her gaze almost imperceptibly softening. “Basira.”

“Yeah, it's me,” Basira replies softly. “Are you hurt?” 

Melanie's eyes flick down as she stares at her hands, one gripping a knife, both covered in blood and gore that's soaked her sweater up to her biceps. 

“No,” she says finally. “I'm not.”

“Good,” Basira says, grateful that she doesn't have to take another coworker to the hospital. She takes a few more steps forwards, wincing when the heel of her boot squishes in a pile of flesh. 

“I kind of made a bit of a mess,” Melanie says, watching her. It's a simple statement, no apology behind it. 

“You look a bit of a mess,” Basira says lightly. Without thinking, she holds out a hand. “Come with me, we'll get you cleaned up.” 

Melanie just stares at the offered hand for a moment, before taking it. Basira steels herself as Melanie's fingers fold around hers, hot and sticky with blood, and leads her away from the carnage. It's not until they're out of the hall that Basira realizes what Melanie's done.

She's saved the Archive, and everyone in it.

* * *

The Archive is a curious work of architecture, an odd number of closets and near empty rooms, randomly interspersed with odd facilities. The one they're in now is fairly empty, save for a sturdy wooden table and a rusty sink that gurgles for a moment when Basira turns the tap, before gushing tinted water that soon turns clear. She fills a small bucket she found, glancing over at Melanie, who leans against the table, her blood-spattered sweater hanging off of one shoulder.

“Do you wanna take that off so I can soak it?” Basira asks, the first words she's spoken since Melanie took her hand. Melanie pulls it off over her head, a bloody gray lump of fabric. Underneath, her skin is a pale tan, dotted with freckles, and a simple white bra hugs her slim frame under a thin tank top. There's still blood covering her arms and torso and freckling her cheeks. Basora dips a towel into the bucket, wrings it, and steps over to Melanie. 

She moves to start to clean the blood from Melanie's face, when the other woman's blood-covered hands come up and take the towel. 

“I've got it.”

Basira just nods, taking the bucket from the sink and putting it by Melanie. Picking up the sweater, she turns the water on and rubs at where the blood saturates the fabric. The water turns red around her fingers, but it's nothing compared to the crimson rivulets running down Melanie's arms. 

“You alright?” Basira says quietly. Melanie's head snaps up, expression sour.

“Am I supposed to be?” she demands

“No. Just asking.” 

Melanie scowls but seems content enough with this answer, and turns her attention back to trying to clean the blood of off her fingers. 

All is quiet for what feels like an eternity, save for the gush of water coming from the tap, and Basira can't help but let it run while she watches Melanie wipe the blood from her face. 

“You saved us, Melanie,” Basira says softly. “All of us.” 

“So?” 

“So...thank you, I suppose.” 

Melanie's face twists. “Why thank me? It's not like it guarantees anything.”

“What do you mean?” 

“What do you think I mean?” Melanie demands. “Just because the Flesh lost this time doesn't mean they will next time. It doesn't mean that next time it won't be the Desolation or the Spiral or any of the other fucking piece-of-shit _entities_ or whatever. It doesn't mean that we'll survive the next time, that we won't end up up like Tim or _Jon_ or Daisy-” 

She catches herself, but it's too late and Daisy's name hangs in the air, a sharp echo that sends pangs through Basira's chest.

“I'm sorry,” Melanie says. “I didn't-”

“I know,” Basira says quietly. “It's okay.”

“It's _not_ ,” Melanie says, furious. “It's not okay that they're gone and we're stuck here having to _remember_ when all I want is-” She breaks off, the outburst ending as quickly as it started. 

Basira turns the water off, the sweater tinted pink by all the blood that's leached out. She takes careful, slow steps towards Melanie. 

“What do you want, Mel?” she asks gently. 

The seconds pass by, long and silent, before Melanie says, “I just want to forget,” and for a moment she sounds plaintive even in her anger. 

“So do I,” Basira says softly, and without really thinking, her hand comes up to rest on Melanie’s arm, who flinches at the contact, but doesn’t pull away. Basira feels something warm in her chest, something that makes her want to weep just in touching someone gently. 

It makes her _want_ so much she feels as though she can't breathe.

“Can I…” The words feel thick on her tongue, but Basira swallows hard and forges on. “Can I help you forget?”

Melanie huffs a sardonic laugh. “How are you going to do that?” she says, looking up at Basira with hard, dark eyes. 

Melanie is a lot of things, but stupid is certainly not one of them, and it doesn’t take long for realization to shade her eyes when Basira’s gaze drops to her lips. 

“You sure?” she says, cautious for the first time in a while, “Even with Daisy being-”

“She'd want me to move on,” Basira replies, but her words feel hollow. She thinks of Daisy's teeth on the column of her throat and the way her partner would breathe the word _mine_ while her fingers dug into Basira's hips. Basira never minded, she likes it rough; but it feels like a lie to pretend that moving on would be something Daisy would ever want, for herself or anyone else.

“You’re gonna have to fuck me really hard to make me forget all that,” Melanie says, but there’s a wicked shadow of a smile on her lips, the lips Basira needs to kiss so badly.

“Yeah, likewise,” Basira replies. “But I’m up for it if you are.” She lets a challenge color her tone when she says, “Unless you think you can’t make me forget anything.” 

Melanie answers her with a kiss, hard and desperate, and the first thing Basira feels is relief. It's been a while since she felt much of anything other than numb fear, and she knows from the way Melanie sighs into her mouth that the other woman has been longing for something different just as much. 

So Basira tangles her fingers in the short curls of Melanie's hair, pulling just enough to make her gasp, and kisses her back just as fiercely. Reluctant to break away, Basira backs her into the door that leads to one of the Archive's many hallways. One hand sliding up Melanie's body, the other turning the lock on the door, Basira's tongue curls into the curve of Melanie's ear, coaxing a soft, sharp inhale from her. 

Basira pulls back for a moment to see the effects of what she's out into motion, assessing the gravity of her actions. Melanie stares back at her, eyes dark with wide pupils, her lips reddened. Basira watches intently as the tip of Melanie's tongue licks the corners of her own mouth. 

“You sure about this?” Melanie asks hoarsely then, her hands trailing up Basira's body.

“I think it's the first thing I've felt sure about in a while,” Basira says, and she can feel Melanie's fingers curl into a fist, trapping her shirt. 

“Good,” Melanie says, pulling Basira back down, and her fingers skim the fabric of Basira's hijab, hesitant. “I--do you want--?” 

Basira nods, unclipping a few of the pins that hold it in place, and the fabric soon flutters to the ground in a ripple of blue. She runs a hand through the mussed hair escaping from its braid before moving to capture Melanie's lips in another bruising kiss as they stumble towards the table.

Melanie's hand comes up to wrap around Basira's throat, not tightly enough to cut off air, but enough to send a shiver down Basira's spine. Her already erratic breathing staggers when Melanie breaks their kiss to run her tongue up the length of Basira's throat before her lips find their place just behind Basira's ear. The first press of teeth against her skin makes Basira whimper as she realizes how goddamn empty the last few months have been, how much she's wanted to be touched and held and tasted. 

Her hand comes up to lay atop Melanie's, the one folded around her throat. The grip tightens and Basira lets out her first, breathy moan as Melanie's teeth nip at the skin under them, her tongue slowly tracing the outline of her mark. 

Melanie makes her way down Basira's neck in the same slow, agonizing fashion, leaving a trail of pink and red blossoms of color on the warm brown skin. The hand not holding Basira's throat captive curls around the edge of the table she's been pinned against, Basira's knee between her legs. 

As her lips reach Basira's collar, Melanie makes a sound of annoyance. She lets go of the table and Basira's throat and instead grips the hem of her shirt. 

“Off,” she says, a mix between a growl and a plea as her teeth catch Basira's earlobe and something in Basira's chest twists because it sounds like what Daisy used to do, but she pushes it down and pulls off her own sweater before helping Melanie unbutton the dress shirt underneath, but she leaves on the black bra even as Melanie traces the top of it with her finger. 

It's then that Basira slides her hands down Melanie's back, before hooking the other woman's thighs around her hips and lifting her onto the table. 

Melanie moves as if to return her attention to leaving more marks, but Basira snakes a hand up to the nape of Melanie's neck, threading the soft curls there through her fingers before making a fist and pulling, jerking Melanie's head back, exposing the pale skin of her throat. Her breathing stutters again as Basira presses kisses to her skin in a path down her jawline. Basira's other hand moves up Melanie's body, lightly dragging her nails across the soft skin there. 

“Alright?” she checks before nipping at Melanie’s collarbone, and the other woman’s hips jerk forward, grinding against her in response. Melanie's cheeks are flushed as she nods, panting a redundant reply, and Basira has to kiss her when she slides her hand under Melanie's skirt, catching a stuttered gasp against her lips. 

Melanie isn't normally the type to beg, but the last few months have changed all of them, and beg she does as Basira works her up to the brink.

Melanie shudders, her moans muffled as her teeth dig into Basira's shoulder, her legs tightening around Basira's waist as she comes before loosening again with a sigh.

Melanie eases back and Basira pulls her slick fingers out from under the other woman's skirt. She's not sure what to do with the mess on her hand, until Melanie catches her wrist. Her touch is almost tender as she takes the fingers into her mouth, her tongue curling around them in a way that goes straight to Basira's head. 

When she's done, her legs unhook from around Basira's waist. "My turn," is all she says as she pushes herself off the table, moving Basira backwards for a moment before flipping their positions and shoving her against the hard wood surface instead. Her teeth catch Basira's bottom lip in a way that makes the both of them moan, her hands fumbling with the buttons on Basira's jeans. 

“Too much blood under my nails,” she mutters, her hair falling into her eyes, and Basira wants to kiss the scowl from her lips. “Can I just eat you out?” 

Basira's heart skips a beat at the question but she manages a "Yes," and helps Melanie tug her jeans off the rest of the way.

Her eyes are dark as she sinks to her knees in front of Basira, her hands holding Basira's thighs apart. Melanie doesn't break eye contact as she leans forward and slowly drags her tongue up, her eyelids fluttering just slightly at the taste. Basira grips the edge of the table with one hand, the other already fisting in Melanie’s hair.

There's something that feels like lightning in the way that Melanie's tongue moves, something that fills Basira with the same need she'd been hoping to ward off. It's the same feeling she's been afraid of with Daisy gone, and now it's burning white-hot in her chest and stomach as Melanie's lips and teeth and tongue tease her open and pull all those feelings out in a series of choked moans that leave Basira trembling. 

And tremble she does when everything in her mind goes blank with the dizzying high that comes with Melanie's mouth bringing her over the edge. Basira's not sure if she's gasped out Melanie or Daisy's name in that moment, but Melanie's expression is calm enough when she rises from her place on her knees that Basira is assured she can hope for the best. 

Melanie presses an almost soft kiss to the corner of Basira’s mouth, slow in a way that makes Basira’s chest ache again. "Alright?" she says, slightly out of breath. 

Basira nods. Melanie makes a move as if she's about to kiss her again, but seems to think better of it. 

"Alright then," Melanie says. She looks to her sweater, a sodden mess in the sink, and just shakes her head before heading for the door. 

"Got a right mess to clean up out there," she says. "Ought to help. Let me know if there's anything else you want to forget?" She cocks her head to the side, and when Basira nods again, the door is opened and she's gone, leaving Basira alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comment/kudos please!


End file.
